


Trust Falls (with orgasms)

by HawthorneWhisperer



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-18
Updated: 2016-12-18
Packaged: 2018-09-09 09:55:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,906
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8886424
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HawthorneWhisperer/pseuds/HawthorneWhisperer
Summary: Clarke has a proposition.Bellamy is not entirely unopposed.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [museumofflight](https://archiveofourown.org/users/museumofflight/gifts).



> @museumofflight requested Bellarke + hesitant kiss and this was supposed to be a drabble but whoops.

Clarke had been worrying the rim of her glass ever since she sat down, so Bellamy finished closing Roan’s tab ($30 tip on a $20 tab; he’d have to thank Raven again), and walked over to the end of the bar.  “So what is it?” he asked lightly.  “Something’s bothering you.”

Clarke took a sip of her whiskey and winced.  “I have a favor to ask, but it’s weird.”

“I can’t help you move,” he replied.  “I know I look like I’d be great at lifting shit, and I am, but I have a tendency to get sidetracked and accidentally start reading a book instead of putting it in a box.  I’m so bad Octavia won’t let me help anymore.”

“I’m not moving,” she said, finishing the rest of her drink in one gulp.

“Okay then, what is it?”

“You’re not going anywhere, right?”

“Do you mean in life, or like, physically?”

“I mean like...you’re not leaving Arkadia for good next week, are you?  You don’t have a job lined up in Rome or something?”

“I’ve got three years left on my fellowship, so...no.  I’m not leaving Arkadia.  Not any time soon.”  He’d come to like it here— he liked his job at Miller’s bar, he liked the cheap-ass rent for the apartment upstairs (also thanks to Miller), he mostly liked his customers, and he liked his program.  It was home for him, or as much _home_ as things got for him.

“Can I have another?” she asked, and he grabbed the bottle of whiskey and poured her a new glass.

“What’s going on, Clarke?” he asked gently.  She looked nervous, her eyes darting around the bar, and she seemed to steel herself before speaking again.

“I want to have sex with you,” she said, her voice so quiet he was sure he didn’t hear her right.

“What?”

She took another fortifying sip.  “I want to have sex with you,” she said clearly.

“I’m flattered, but why?” he asked.  His heart had done the strangest thing at her request, leaping and then plunging somewhere south of his ribcage.

“It’s an experiment.”

“An experiment?” he asked, arching an eyebrow.

“I need to have sex with someone, and then...stay.”

Clarke looked down at her drink and Bellamy studied her, running over what he knew about her in his mind.  She’d moved to town to be with her boyfriend, only to discover he was also  _ Raven’s _ boyfriend when Raven came back from her internship.  Clarke had disappeared off the face of the earth for a solid month after that, resurfacing with a vague explanation about traveling in Europe.  A year later she’d started dating Lexa— which significantly cut down on the amount of time she spent at the Dropship— but when that went belly up she’d disappeared again, this time for three months.  She’d returned right when Bellamy’s fall semester started and seemed more like her old self lately, which was good.  This though-- this was out of the blue.  “What do you mean by stay?  Like, overnight?”

“Not really, no.  I could leave after, if you want, but I need— I need to know I can have sex with someone and then see them again.  Normally.  Without flipping out and running away.”

“And why me?”

Clarke shrugged.  “I have it on good authority you know what you’re doing?”

_Having slept with Raven once is like having the world’s weirdest pimp._  “Okay, but at least four guys and two women in this bar have checked you out in the last hour.  You could go home with one of them, and then...not run away,” he pointed out.

“I tried that already,” she said with a grimace.  “Two months ago.”

“And?”

“And now there’s an antique store on the south side of town I can never return to, because I told her I’d stay and then left in the middle of the night.”

“I see,” he said, more to buy himself time than anything else.  “And what about me?”

“You’re single, right?  Nobody since Gina?”

“Nobody since Gina,” he confirmed.  “But what if you decide to run away from me?  I’d lose my favorite customer.”

“I’m your favorite?” she asked with a grin.

“Only because you're my best tipper.”

“Really?”

“No,” he admitted.  “But that’s just because I might have given Roan the impression that if he tips well, I’d put in a good word for him with Raven.”

“And will you?”

“Fuck no.  He wants to date her, he can do the work himself.”

Clarke snorted and looked down.  Her hand made a movement, almost like she was going to reach for him, but she stopped herself.  “It’s because— I like you.  And I like coming here.  So I think— I think I can make it happen, you know?  Prove to myself that I can do this.  You’re...good incentive.  And...you’re...you.”

“I’m me?” Bellamy placed his hand on top of the bar, palm up.  His fingers curled a little and Clarke took the hint, reaching out and taking his hand.

That did the trick.  “I trust you,” she said, and now there wasn’t any nervousness left in her voice.   

She met his gaze and he found it a little bit hard to breathe, but he swept his thumb across the back of her hand anyway. “Are you drunk?”

“No.  This one is my second, I swear,”

It wasn’t like he hadn’t thought about it.  He had eyes, and they flirted shamelessly sometimes.  They  were friends— sort of— and his day always brightened a little when Clarke came in for a drink.  But he hadn’t wanted to overstep whatever friendship they had, so he’d just...ignored it.

Except here she was, asking him to fuck her.  “I have to close up first,” he said, and Clarke nodded.

Closing the bar while Clarke Griffin was waiting to have sex with him was unsurprisingly difficult.  He was distracted, counting the cash wrong twice, and he didn’t really feel like wiping down every table.  But Clarke helped, grabbing the broom and sweeping while he put the chairs up and turned off the lights.  She followed him up the cramped staircase to his apartment and toed off her boots.

He turned and faced her, placing his hand on her waist.  “Are you sure?” he asked, using his other hand to brush the hair back from her face.

“I am.  Are you?”  Clarke licked her lips and he crowded her against the door, her blonde hair bright in the dim light.

“I am,” he said, still gauging her reaction.  “But you can change your mind at any time, okay?”

“You too,” she said, and slipped her hands around to his lower back.  She pulled him close and carefully, he leaned down and fit his mouth to hers.

Before she could fully respond, he pulled away.  “You’re sure?” he asked again.  His heart was doing that thing again, leaping and plunging and pounding, and it made it hard to think straight.

“Positive,” Clarke said with a look that threatened to turn him to cinders.  She tugged him back and kissed him, all traces of hesitation gone.  His tongue sought hers and he peeled away her motorcycle jacket, her fingers tangling into his hair.  This was supposed to be an experiment, clinical and tactile, but all of that went out the window because the taste of her lips was now a taste he craved.  

Something deep inside of him seemed to shift.   Bellamy lifted her up and her legs locked around his waist, kissing him as he made his way to the bedroom.  She unwound herself as he set her down and grabbed the hem of his sweater, tugging it upwards until he had to stop kissing her and help lift it the rest of the way lest it get caught on his glasses, which he set on his nightstand.  Clarke stripped off her henley and he almost had to close his eyes to get a grip on himself at the sight of so much of her skin.

Her shoulders were smooth and soft as he trailed his fingers down her arms, his hand cuffed around the nape of her neck to bring their lips back together.  She made a small, needy noise and moved her mouth to his collarbone, her kisses wet and hot.  Her bra sprang open with just a quick twist of his fingers and Clarke tossed it impatiently aside.  He cupped one heavy breast in his hand, gently at first, and then plucked at her nipple with just enough force to make her moan.  She worked at his button and fly, shoving his jeans down his hips and then spinning them so the backs of his legs hit his mattress.

Clarke pushed him back and he laid down, watching her hungrily as she opened his nightstand and pulled out a condom.  She pulled down his boxer briefs and let his erection spring free with a gleam in her eye.  Clarke fit herself between his knees and ducked her head, wrapping her hand around his cock and licking him from base to tip.  She brought him inside her mouth, the sensation hot and wet and perfect, swallowing him as far as she could.  He groaned, wanting more, but then she was climbing up his body and kissing him instead and he lost himself in that, their tongues meeting while she fumbled with the condom.

Bellamy stilled her movements.  “Not yet,” he said, his voice half-wasted, half-growl.  He rolled her underneath him and took her breast in his mouth while his hand skimmed up her inner thigh.  He scraped his teeth on her rapidly hardening nipple and his fingers slipped into her folds.

She was wet, and the noise his touch wrenched from her throat made him press his forehead to her shoulder, just for a moment.   _ It’s an experiment; basically just a trust fall with orgasms, _ he tried to remind himself, but she pulled his face up to hers and kissed him so needily he let that thought float away.  He eased a finger inside of her, his thumb pressed tightly to her clit.  The noises were coming faster now, high-pitched pants into his ear.  He added a second finger and moved his thumb in a slow circle, teasing her with his strokes until her arms fell from around his neck and she was grasping desperately at his sheets.  Only then did he speed up and give her what she needed, swallowing her cries with kisses when her walls started to flutter around his fingers.

Clarke’s back bowed and she arched into him before going limp against the pillows.  He kissed the corner of her mouth and she smiled, reaching down and grasping his cock on her hand.  “Now?” she asked, stroking him lazily, and he was momentarily torn between letting her do that some more and being inside of her, but then he met her gaze.

Her eyes were dark with want and all he could do was nod helplessly.  Bellamy was at her mercy, and he wondered if she knew just how much that meant.  He rolled to his side and watched as she unfurled the condom on his cock, the backs of her fingers brushing his dark thatch of hair.  Then he was over her again, her ankles coming to lock around his waist as he pushed himself inside of her.

Her eyes widened as he moved and her hands started roaming his body, searching out every spot she hadn’t yet touched.  Bellamy kissed her, pulling out and thrusting back in, first slowly and then harder and faster as her hips rose to meet him.  Her breasts bounced against his chest and Clarke slid her hand between her thighs, touching her clit with careful, deliberate movements.  

_ It shouldn’t be this good _ , his brain warned, but it  _ was  _ and that was all that mattered.  He kissed her, again and again, and her legs tightened around him to keep him from pulling out any farther.  Her free hand tangled with his and she squeezed his fingers, her eyes burning into him while he kept thrusting into her until he felt her start to tremble again.

He only made it three more strokes once she started to come, his cock swelling inside her while her muscles clenched down on him rhythmically.  The heat that had been building at the base of his spine came unspooled all at once and he let go with a cry that might have been her name.

The antique clock Octavia had gotten him for his birthday ticked while Bellamy tucked his face in her neck, trying to get his breathing under control.  Clarke clung to him, her legs still wrapped around him and his cock still buried inside of her.  He wondered if she could feel his heart pounding inside his chest, or if that was her heart he was feeling instead.  Slowly they unwound themselves— first her legs, then he pulled out, and then he rolled to his back.  He reached for a tissue to wad around the condom while she slipped out and padded towards the bathroom.

Bellamy was laying on his back when she returned and paused at the edge of the bed. She was naked— and more beautiful than he ever imagined— and biting her lower lip in thought.  “Can I...can I stay?” she asked, and the slight catch in her voice was like a string tied to his heart.

“Wasn’t that the point?” he replied, trying to sound playful.

Clarke smiled and slid under the covers.  “I meant the night,” she said, even as she curled into him.  “We never discussed if I could spend the night.”

“Oh, right,” he said, distracted by the smell of her hair.  “Of course you can.”  He shifted until she was pillowed against his shoulder, her legs tangled with his.  “But only if you make me breakfast.”

He felt her smile into his skin.  “I’m a terrible a cook.”

“Coffee, then.”

“Deal.”

Truth be told, this was more dangerous than sex for him.  Bellamy loved these soft moments after sex, their gentle breath on his chest, their hair tickling his nose.  He liked falling asleep with another person there, warm and steady.  And Clarke— when he agreed to this, she was his favorite customer, his sometimes-friend, his favorite person to gripe to when the bar was slow enough that he could grade papers while he worked.

But now, her fingers trailing across his skin in absent-minded patterns...now, he wasn’t so sure what she was to him anymore.

 

* * *

 

The scent of coffee woke him up.  A fuzzy, indistinct looking Clarke was standing by his side of the bed, holding a mug in each hand.  “I was kidding about the coffee,” he said, groping blindly for his glasses.  He found them and instantly wished he hadn’t, because the sight of Clarke standing by his bed in the morning light, her hair still mussed, was practically deadly.

He shifted so she had space to perch on the edge and accepted the mug from her, and then without thinking he leaned forward and kissed her just below her ear.  She had a tiny freckle there, something he hadn’t noticed the night before, and he simply wanted to make it his.  “I could get used to this,” he murmured, and then froze when he realized what he’d just said.

But Clarke turned to him with a slow, gentle smile.  “Me too,” she said, and kissed him.  She tasted bitter, like coffee, and sweet, like her.  He realized she was wearing his sweater— and nothing else— and he had to lift his mug to cover his smile.  He moved so she could slide in next to him, the two of them propped up on the headboard with their hands curled around the mugs he’d stolen from the university cafeteria.  

He took another sip and watched her carefully.  “How are you doing?  Any—” his throat seemed to close up, and he coughed to clear it.  “Any urge to run?”

She leaned her head against his shoulder.  “Kind of, but...in a good way.”

“There’s a good way to want to run away?”  He forced himself to sound light, but panic was starting to bleed into his veins.

“I want to run because...because I liked this.  Because this was good.  Because I could get used to this too, and that— I haven’t wanted that for a long time, and I wasn’t sure it was what I deserved.”

“But you stayed.”

“I stayed.”

“Why?” he asked, although he wasn’t sure he wanted to know.

“Because like I said last night— I trust you.  And I knew I could tell you why I wanted to run, and I knew you’d...you’d do this.”

“What am I doing?”

“Listen.  Sit here, with me, even though I’m a terrible person.”

Bellamy kissed the top of her head.  “Don’t say that,” he admonished.  “You’re not terrible.  You’re just...you’re human.  And feelings are the worst.”

She chuckled and raised the mug to her lips.  “They are the worst.  When do you have to be back at work?”

“Not until seven.”

Clarke shifted and he draped his arm over her shoulders.  “Can I stay here until then?” she asked, looking up at him hopefully.

He kissed her once more, just a gentle brush of lips.  “You can stay here as long as you want.”

  
  
  
  
  



End file.
